


Ruby

by LunaChi_KuroShihone



Series: Gemstones [6]
Category: Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Family, Love, Love/Hate, New Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 16:00:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6335236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaChi_KuroShihone/pseuds/LunaChi_KuroShihone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A different reality, a different choice, a different fate:</p>
<p>Watch as the Knights of the Round are Summoned, their reactions and thoughts in These fleeting minutes. Short Chapter-Snippets as they look upon the Once and Future King, living not a life of bloodshed and betrayal, but of love and happiness.<br/>Watch as Saber meets friends of old, and tears are shed.</p>
<p>Each Chapter is Stand-Alone in a Parallel Universe, and each focuses on one of the Knights. They are roughly a little more than 1000 Words Long each.</p>
<p>Five down; the fair Queen, Steward, the loyal friend, the best Knight, the White Knight and now the Traitor Son<br/>(And Lancelot's reaction to the Wedding Ring)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ruby

Emerging from the arcane magic circle, the armor clad figure of Avenger stepped forward. Righting itself, Avenger looked into the direction of their Master, about to kneel down, when something blond caught their attention.

Or rather, her attention.

Whipping her head around so fast that it made a cracking noise, Avenger stared at the blonde.

"You…!"

Anger seeped into her mind, not unlike the mad enhancement of the Berserker class warriors, taking away all thoughts left sane and coherent.

" _Father_!-" almost like a growl, the hatred poured into those words, and Avenger readied her sword, taking an attacking stance.

It was not fair, she thought, that wherever she went, whenever she might be summoned, her Father was there, no doubt to finish her off. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she noted duly how very impossible it seemed that her Father had been summoned into the same Grail War as Avenger herself.

And how her wish- her wish to be acknowledged by him — by obtaining the grail and pulling the Sword from the Stone — was surely put to a halt, now.

She attacked.

Artoria Pendragon, the king of Britain and her Father, sidestepped the attack swiftly, not raising her own sword.

Avenger skidded to a halt, turned, and charged again.

And again, Artoria sidestepped.

Now, Avenger was furious. How dare he?! Not even raising his sword?

"Do you mock me, Father?!" there was a faint quivering to the otherwise angry voice, "Do you think that I am not worth enough of your time? That you won't even raise your blade against mine?! Or do you may haps not recognize me, your own son whom you killed in cold blood?!"

Not even waiting for an answer, Avenger deactivated Secret of Pedigree, and the helmet melted back into the armor, revealing a face that was a complete mirror image of Artoria's own, who was frowning.

"Answer me!"

"Mordred…" The voice was sad, sounding almost defeated, and the gaze in Artoria's eyes was a raging storm between pity and self-loathing.

The emotion behind them, and the fact that her father hadn't attacked back yet made Avenger halt.

But she was still angry.

This was the point at which her Master decided to intervene, taking a cautious step between both parties.

"Calm down, please."

He had his hands outstretched in a placating manner, and Avenger's brow furrowed in dissatisfaction.

"How could I, with father here!?" she growled. _The nerve of him_! "If you wish me to calm down, then explain to me at once; what is the meaning of this, Master?"

She snarled the word at the end, it leaving a foul taste in her mouth. It made her sound like some kind of a puppet, not like a person.

But then, she was a homunculus, and her father did not deem her a person worthy of his presence, so who knows?

His brow furrowed and he looked sternly at her. Well, at least her Master had some backbone, for being a magus, that she will admit.

Unlike her father, who still did not say anything, gaze clouded in thoughts.

"Firstly," his voice held steel, "my name is Emiya Shirou. Not 'Master'. And secondly-"

"It was me who wished to summon you, Mordred."

Avenger stared blankly at her father, not understanding. Gone was the troubled gaze, in its place one of determination. Still, there was something soft to it, and Avenger wondered what it was.

"You?!—" _Why, why would you_? There were not many possibilities as to why her father would summon her, and none of them looked pretty and bright to her.

Avenger frowned in disdain.

"Why would You wish to summon me, if not to finish what we started at Camlann?!"

Avenger shifted forward.

"!"

Artoria did the same, finally unsheathing her sword.

But not attacking. Merely watching carefully.

"…"

She took a deep breath, calming herself. Avenger tensed.

"Out of all of my knights whom I could've let Shirou summon, why would I ask for yourself?"

"Sick, twisted malice, mayhap? I do not know, Father."

"What benefit would it aid us, summoning a Servant only for such foolishness?"

Avenger blinked. Hate as she may admit it, that was sound logic. Her father was silent, casting a side wards glance at her Master.

Then continued. "As you undoubtedly may have guessed, I am no Servant."

Avenger grit her teeth. It was true, she supposed. He did not release any magical energy that was the tell-tale sign of Servants.

"I have been, though. I was summoned in the last war by Shirou, as Saber."

"!"

"During that war, and after, I realized two things: One, I should not regret my rule over Camelot."

His gaze turned distant, and Avenger had a look akin to horror on her face. Why would her father regret his rule? As much as she hated [loved] him, never did she think he regretted his rule.

She would have done better, obviously, but still.

Artoria sighed again, a deep shuddering breath, and Shirou looked at her with something akin to sympathy and pride.

"And two: I should not have been so harsh with you, with my rejection."

…

"… _What_?" Avenger wanted to shout 'liar', she truly did, but upon looking at Artoria's face, the words were stuck in her throat.

Her eyes were filled with sadness.

Taking the resulting silence of the Knight of Treachery as a go, the King of Knights continued solemnly.

"…I never truly hated you, Mordred. You were one of my finest knights, before… "

There was a short silence, in which Avengers thoughts went haywire, trying to understand the meaning of her fathers… apology?

"Neither did I detest the fact that you kept your identity hidden, or that you are a homunculus — not when my sister-in-law is."

There was a dry chuckle.

"You rejected me! In front of your court!"

There was the anger again, at being thrown away, her, the rightful heir to the thr—

"No."

The answer was short and cold, and Avengers heart roared; in confusion or anger, she herself did not know.

"No?!"

"No. I never would have done such a thing…" A shudder. "Morgana-"

"Was it because I am an illegitimate child, then?! I had a right for the throne!"

"It was because seeing you reminded me of what that witch had done!"

The answer was delivered through gritted teeth and balled fists, and with a start Avenger was reminded of who exactly her mother had been, to what lengths she was able to go.

"I felt completely … _powerless_ and _humiliated_ by what she did, and I resented the fact that you were the living proof of what had happened. That, and the knowledge that your mother could never be trusted. I never truly blamed you, or outright hated you."

The fists were released, and Artoria looked Avenger directly into the eyes.

Who looked back in silence.

"And you would have not been a good king, Mordred."

Avenger remained silent, not retorting angrily that she would've been. Instead, she opted to listen further, glancing shortly at Shirou, who stood in silence, arms crossed, as a pillar of support for her father.

"You were brash and impulsive and hot-headed and oh-so-young, raised by Morgana to do her bidding. However, I do not say that you would've been a completely bad king. Mayhap—"

There was an audible strain on Artoria's voice, and Shirou put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"— it might have worked out, if we simply would have sat down and talked. Maybe the course of history could have been altered."

There was another shuddering intake of breath, and Artoria stepped towards Avenger.

It would've been easy to attack her father, to simply run Clarent through him, to end this —

\- but she found she could not. There was a swirling of emotions incomprehensible to her, as she tried to analyse what had happened over the past few minutes.

She loved [hated] her father, and wanted nothing mor than for him to acknowledge her [kill him].

"Even if it might sound hollow, coming from me, but I still wish to reconcile. I am not foolish enough to believe that everything is over now, or that we can simply turn over a new leaf; start anew, but I still would be …glad."

An outstretched hand entered Avengers vision.

"…I see."

Having something of a real family sounded nice, she mused.

"I… it is a lot to take in and consider, I'll admit. Though, it does sound …rather charming, it's still a …lot to take in. But-"

Her own hand, still clad in armor, grasped it.

"I might just agree to try this 'reconciliation.'"

A crooked, feisty grin met a small, melancholic smile, the gesture oh-so reminiscent of the first time they met, still blissfully unaware of their kinship.

There was still much to discuss, they were by no means done, that much Avenger knew. But it was a start, somewhere in this rewind-tale of love, betrayal, death and rebirth; of holy chalices and maybe-ever-afters.

They could not pretend that these days of war never happened, but they could try to close that rift between them.

… There was only one more thing that was of significant interest to her.

And it was rather important, too.

"Shirou Emiya." Servant turned to Master, who was smiling warmly at the peace offering between father and son.

"Yes?"

"I have one question," it was delivered in the utmost deadpan voice, "shall I call you Mother or Step-Mother?"

 

 

**Omake:**

Upon shaking hands, Berserker noted that there was something off about it.

Or rather, _on_ it. On the hands. He squinted his eyes, recognizing the light glimmer of a piece of jewellery.

It was rather simple, really, but finely crafted with a little gemstone in the middle, and small ornaments that looked like leaves securing said stone on the jewellery.

All in all, Berserker mused, it really was a rather nice ring—

Wait…

… "Milord, is that a ring?"

"…aye, it is." The voice was rather uncertain now. With merit, Berserker mused.

"Could it be, that this ring has, mayhap, a partner on Master Emiya's hand?" His grip turned just a tad bit more forceful.

"Yes..." Spoken to person answered, but Berserker paid him no mind.

"And could it be, that these rings are, maybe, engagement rings?" His voice was cold now.

"…aye, they are." She looked rather sheepish now.

Berserker sighed, inhaling a deep, calming breath. Then,

"…I see."

The hand of one Emiya Shirou was squeezed with a force befitting of the Berserker class, and said magus winced slightly.

"A pleasure, then."

"L-likewise."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Next is Percival


End file.
